


Injury

by Libelli



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, drug use (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 19:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13841823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libelli/pseuds/Libelli
Summary: Victor has just returned to the skating world, but taking so much time off has negative affects. Victor wishes it didn't.





	Injury

Victor wanted to run. He wanted to drop his bag and sprint through the crowds all the way home, scream at the walls, and then lay in bed the rest of the day. Every breath was tight, and his fingers drummed against where they were pinned to his legs. 

“...your landings got good by the end, you barely wobbled on the last one!” Yuuri chattered.

“Yeah.” 

“I mean, if you go as hard tomorrow, then I think you’ll be fine for the nationals.” said Yuuri.

The nationals. The lights. The screaming crowds. Judges, with medals on the line.

The thought made Victor press his lips together and squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Victor?” Yuuri asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You look like something’s bothering you.”

“I’m fine.”

Victor kept his gaze forward, and refused to see Yuuri’s concerned look. “If you say so…” Yuuri sighed.

Yuuri kept quiet the rest of the way back to the apartment. 

Every person walking in the streets was too much. Every person that recognized him shot a bolt of dread through Victor.

_ They don’t know. How could they?! How dare they think I’m still that great hero?! _ Victor thought.

Every smile and every shout of: “Look! It’s Victor Nikiforov!” made Victor want to tear- what remained- of his hair out.

Victor breathed a small sigh of relief when his and Yuuri’s apartment building came into view. He picked up his pace, and Yuuri breathed out heavily through his nose as he kept up with Victor. 

Victor flew through the door and up the stairs before the door man could say anything. He heard Yuuri mumble a greeting, and then chase after him. Victor opened the door to their apartment and Makkachin bounded up to him. For a moment Victor forgot all of his failures.

“Did you behave yourself while we were gone?” Victor crooned as he rubbed Makkachin between her floppy ears. His only response was a wag of her tail. 

Yuuri stomped up the last of the stairs and into the apartment, slightly out of breath. “You didn’t tell me it was a race!” 

Victor forced a laugh. “I...just wanted to surprise you.” he lied still looking at Makkachin.

Yuuri put his bag down, sat down next to Victor, and began to pet Makkachin as well. “Nothing’s bothering you?” 

Victor snapped his attention to Yuuri. “ _ Nothing _ is bothering me.” he spat. He stood and brushed the dog hair off of his tracksuit. 

“Where are you going?” Yuuri asked looking up at him. 

“To find some aspirin, I’ve got a headache.” it was only half true. 

Victor walked into the bathroom and clicked the door shut behind him. As soon as he felt the door jarr to a stop, Victor rested his back against it and let his head bang against the wood. He was alone. His throat tightened. 

_ Stop. Don’t do it. How weak are you? _ Victor asked himself.  _ What if Yuuri hears? _

Somehow the thought of Yuuri was what made Victor start crying. His mouth pressed into a frown and tears slipped down his face one by one. Victor buried his face in both of his hands. He felt his sobs, as quiet as they could be, and he felt his cool tears. 

He wondered if Yuuri could hear him, after all hearing himself was thunderous enough. 

The small bathroom was hot paired with all the layers Victor had on walking to and from the ice rink. He pulled off his red and white jacket with his country’s letters and flag on it, then the pants that went with it. Victor popped off his shoes when they got caught in the pant’s leg and tossed them aside, they clattered against the wall. 

“Is everything okay in there?” he heard Yuuri’s voice asked. 

“I’m fine.” Victor managed to say.

He heard Yuuri mutter something, but he could not make out what it was. 

Victor walked over to the medicine cabinet, the blisters on his feet screaming with each step. He ripped open the mirrored door; the little store-bought pain relief bottle sat eye-level with him, mocking. Victor grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the cap. He shook out three little oblong, orange pills out by accident. 

What the Hell. What was one more going to do?

Victor swallowed them without water. 

He knew that it was going to bring immediate relief, not from his muscles and blisters, and surely not from how he felt. Victor caught his reflection in the mirror, and a scream rose up in his throat and his image swam in tears. 

The bags under his eyes, his hair surely receding no matter how much Yuuri insisted it wasn’t, the fine lines on his forehead and around his lips. 

_ Washed up. Old man. Done. Former world record holder.  _

Before Victor could collapse, he let himself down, holding onto the sink and tub for support. He sat on the only soft thing on the floor, the bathmat, and buried his face in his hands again. He couldn't scream; his breaths came in short and choppy and left in puffs. A small, not quiet, gasp left Victor’s throat, as he tried to rub away the tears.

The door flung open and Yuuri stood there, his eyes darted around the bathroom taking everything in. Yuuri drew inward, like he had been injured. All the air in his lungs let out as he deflated. 

“Victor…” he sighed. 

Victor looked up at the shape of Yuuri, a dark smudge in his tear-filled eyes. Victor shook his head and buried his hands again. Yuuri shuffled into a kneeling position next to Victor.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft.

_ Everything _ . Victor didn’t say it. Instead he curled into Yuuri, and felt him. Victor felt his heartbeat, the warmth of his body, his even breathing. Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor, pulling him in closer. Victor let himself sob against Yuuri’s chest, clutching the fabric of his jacket like some kid. The bathroom echoed with Victor’s crying.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri murmured as hugged Victor tighter, “whatever it is, it’s okay.”

Victor held Yuuri close. He was inclined to believe him. 

 


End file.
